


Mornings in Hanamura

by sinningpumpkin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Childhood Stories, Cyborg Angst, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Traveling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinningpumpkin/pseuds/sinningpumpkin
Summary: Zenyatta is curious about the parts of Genji's childhood he hasn't been privy to. They take a break from their life in the rag tag team of Overwatch, and decide to take a trip to Hanamura





	Mornings in Hanamura

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to new-recipe for commissioning me for this!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it as well!

Genji enjoyed many different types of entertainment at Overwatch. He got to see his brother again and indulge in reliving their history. He got to hang around with Hana and Lucio, playing video games and listening to music. He was able to settle in for long days catching up on shows, or watching movies.

Zenyatta had a lot of the same opportunities. Their rag tag group had accepted him into their ranks, he was close with Lucio, and Hanzo no longer felt threatened by them. But most days he preferred to be alone, to explore their small, almost run down compound, to float about and meditate on his own. 

So, when he managed to convince Genji to settle down with him each night he made the young man promise to leave all the electronics off. Once their nightly maintenance was tended to, Zenyatta had the promise to just have Genji. Not that it was a chore for his young partner. Genji loved the quiet time they shared tangled up in each other, just as much as Zenyatta. Maybe even more than Zenyatta. 

Zenyatta settled down in bed while Genji stumbled through their small room, bouncing on the last bit of adrenaline that Lucio and Hana always imbued in him. He liked watching Genji move. Even now, when he was giggly and a bit uncoordinated, instead of holding tight to his normal grace.

Genji was tripping over his own feet when he walked across the room to find a warm sweater to wear. As he bounced around on one foot, trying to pry the armor off the other leg, Zenyatta felt fondness bubble in his chassis. When he lost his balance completely and fell against their dresser Zenyatta couldn’t help but titter a bit, his hand laying across his face plate as if that would muffle the noise. 

Genji chuckled a bit himself before finally managing to pry the armor off of his left leg. “Shut up, Zen.” Zenyatta’s head tipped back a little bit, array flickering as he hoped Genji could tell how fond Zenyatta was of him. 

With Genji’s eyes seeming to glow in the dim room, and the small quirk of his lips as he slowly pulled off most of his bulky armor, Zenyatta figured he had to know. “Did you have a good day?” Genji’s smile widened as he looked over his shoulder at the omnic reclining in their bed. He seemed surprised that Zenyatta still asked such mundane questions. But Zenyatta would never get tired of Genji’s stories, could listen for hours to his slightly synthetic voice. 

“It was great. I didn’t see you around today, what were you up to?” Zenyatta’s hand slid from his face as he shrugged a little bit. There were many small habits he had picked up after being surrounded by so many humans for so long, shrugging was one of them. 

“Nothing special I don’t think.” Genji pulled the thick sweater on over his head and finally started toward the bed. 

“Nothing special?” Genji’s hands splayed over his legs through the quilt they shared. Zenyatta reached out for him as Genji smiled up at him. “The Shimbali would be shocked to hear the great Zenyatta say that.” Zenyatta’s hands landed on his shoulders, rubbing down Genji’s back as he straddled the omnic. 

The light from his array speckled across Genji’s face, making more warmth caress his inner workings as Genji cupped the side of his face plate. “You know my routine Genji. It is nothing special.” Genji rolled his eyes before ducking down to press a kiss to the grid on Zenyatta’s forehead. 

The warm brush of his lips was electric, even on a part of Zenyatta’s body that wasn’t loaded with sensors. His hands brushed down the front of Genji’s chest, sensitive finger tips picking up on the beating of his heart and the soft fabric of his shirt. “No epiphanies today?” Genji’s breath was hot on his metal, one of his other hands falling to the back of his neck.

Zenyatta mimicked a humming noise, when he looked up to Genji he was smiling down at him softly. “Sadly not.” Genji’s fingers threaded through some of the cables at the back of Zenyatta’s neck, making his level humming begin to glitch out. 

Genji left them alone for the most part, pressing another kiss to the side of Zenyatta’s face before falling into bed beside him. Genji crawled under the quilt that they shared, more for show than anything. Both of them would come close to overheating in the middle of the night because of it, but they continued to crawl under it each evening. 

Genji’s arm laid across his lap, fingers fussing with some of the smaller pistons in Zenyatta’s stomach. They were sensitive, but it didn’t bother the omnic. It made his voice a little trembly and glitchy, something that Genji delighted in. “I was caught in a vague… melancholy.” Genji’s fingers fell still for a moment, and when Zenyatta looked down at him he seemed concerned. 

He reached back to tangle his fingers in Genji’s hair, feeling the depth of their love more than ever. “Nothing to worry about Genji.” He looked back out the large window in their room, overlooking a lush valley. “I think I’m just missing home.” Zenyatta was too interested in the clouds obscuring part of the night sky to realize Genji had stiffened beside him. 

Zenyatta’s fingers curled through Genji’s short hair, a little matted from still insisting on wearing his full armor around the compound during the day. He tore his eyes away from the window to adjust his position in bed, moving the pillows around until he could lay flat beside Genji. 

They laid and faced each other, curling their fingers together and staring into each other’s eyes. The smile had dropped off of Genji’s face, making Zenyatta reach out for him as he spoke. “I understand. I miss Hanamura dearly.” Zenyatta was a bit stunned to hear Genji speak so openly. 

Besides his later childhood and talk of Hanzo, Zenyatta knew almost nothing of Genji’s home. He had been to Japan only once, with the Shimbali, it was picturesque and when he first encountered Genji, he expected the young man to gush about it. Instead, he had been curiously quiet about his life in Hanamura. He had come to Zenyatta for help with only Hanzo, and the monk had provided said help, but he now found he was missing a large part of Genji’s life.

“It was just so beautiful.” Zenyatta could feel Genji’s breath across his face plate, the rhythm of his breathing against his palm splayed across his chest. “The cherry blossoms during the spring.” Zenyatta delighted in Genji’s smile. “Hanzo and I loved it. I wonder if I still have the pictures.” 

He threw his arm around Zenyatta, tangling their legs together as he sighed. “I’ll have to try and find them.” Zenyatta hummed softly, fingers tracing up and down Genji’s spine. 

“What about your parents?” It was rare for Zenyatta to speak without thinking. But these words felt truly unplanned, making Genji fall to a deathly stillness before pulling away. 

Zenyatta didn’t try to hold onto him. He gave Genji even more space as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t try to apologize, or explain himself. Genji knew, Genji would have been able to speak the apologetic words along with him. 

Even so, Zenyatta felt Genji’s anguish like his own physical pain. His spine curved as he curled in on himself, the metal glinted in the moonlight as he held his head in his hands. Zenyatta sat up beside him, staring at his metal fingers scratching through his dark hair. “Did they like the cherry blossoms too?” Zenyatta kept his voice soft, avoiding touching Genji. 

He shook his head, but Zenyatta had a feeling it wasn’t in response to his question. His eyes found the window again, staring into the valley as he thought of his own home. The lofty monastery full of his brothers, the beautiful sweeping architecture and the breathless scenery of the mountains. He missed it, but he never once thought that joining the remnants of Overwatch was a mistake. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me about them.” He peered at the side of Genji’s face, trying to strike a balance between supportive and prodding. “I would like-” So unlike himself to second guess, but Genji always brought out the strangest parts of him. “I would like to meet them.” 

Genji’s voice was trembling in a way Zenyatta had never heard. “Zenyatta. Don’t.” He couldn’t tell if it was rage or sorrow staining his words. Part of him wanted to push harder, wanted to see why Genji was trembling and nearly ripping at his own hair. 

But now was not the time, not when Genji seemed to be in so much pain. “Okay.” Genji seemed to relax a bit when he realized that Zenyatta wasn’t going to push him any farther. His hands dropped back into his lap, even though his head was still bowed. 

Zenyatta smoothed a hand down Genji’s back, and he leaned into it. The shaking faded away, he relaxed into Zenyatta’s side. He still didn’t apologize. Genji wouldn’t have accepted it anyway. “Will you lay with me some more?” Genji nodded. 

They laid back, Genji partially propped on Zenyatta’s chest as he dragged the quilt back over them. Their legs tangled together, and Genji fell asleep with Zenyatta playing with his hair. 

They didn’t speak about Genji’s parents or his apparent fear for nearly a week. Zenyatta accepted that he might not ever know about Genji’s parents, he had settled it during a routine meditation session in the morning after that night. 

Genji found him nearly a week later at the edge of their compound, overlooking the valley again. He was meditating, array powered down as his mind roamed, free yet blank. Genji’s quiet footsteps broke him out of it. “Hello Genji.” His voice was a bit sloppy, internals barely operational as he explored his own mind. 

His array struggled to come on as Genji sat beside him. “I wanted to ask you something.” His voice was metallic and rough, he was wearing his mask. 

“Of course, my sparrow.” Finally, his full senses returned, flickering a few times before he could look out at the valley and to Genji beside him. 

His body language was open and relaxed, staring out at the beautiful view as his fingers ripped at the grass under them. “My father used to call me that.” Zenyatta cocked his head at him, surprise lapping at his fingertips as he hummed. “I want to take you to Hanamura.” The surprise felt more like a harsh shock. 

Genji laughed softly, and Zenyatta wondered what tipped him off to his shock. Few people were able to shock Zenyatta speechless, but Genji was always special in that regard. “Yes, yes of course. I would love to.” He hadn’t noticed how he had turned toward Genji entirely until Genji scooped him into a hug. 

He bumped their face plates together, a mockery of a kiss that made Zenyatta laugh. “That's good, because I might’ve already bought the plane tickets.” 

It felt a little silly to fly on a passenger plane in their current wear. Genji dressed down as much as he could, and covered most of his cybernetics with comfortable clothing. He still refused to show his face in public, and a few show downs with the airport security weren’t surprising. 

The arrival in Japan was easy, and Zenyatta was immediately rearing to get into the countryside. Tokyo was beautiful in its own way. It reached above the two men like nothing else Zenyatta had ever experienced. But they were here to see Hanamura, to meet Genji’s parents. Just the thought was enough to make Zenyatta’s processes speed up. 

Even so, he couldn’t escape the appeal of the neon lights and exciting street fashion. They stayed in Tokyo for a few nights. They lounged in lavish hotels and went out for exciting dinners, that Zenyatta was more a spectator of. Genji was enjoying himself, and his happiness was contagious. 

Zenyatta had to say the shopping and scenery were his favorite parts. The fashion and clothing were addicting visually, they were exciting and completely different from what he himself ever indulged in. By the end of their shopping spree, he figured they might have to pack up all his new things and send it back home instead of taking it themselves. 

The scenery was just as extravagant as the fashion he indulged in. None of it seemed dull, even though he had visited the city once before with Mondatta. The reaching, rigid skyscrapers always captivated his attention. The sky was painted with violent colors each night and morning at the sun’s retirement. Even if there wasn’t much flora or fauna to indulge in, it had its own harsh beauty. 

Zenyatta was sad to leave Tokyo, but even more excited to reach Hanamura. They ended up taking a long road trip out of the city and into the countryside. Genji seemed to enjoy the wonder that captured Zenyatta whenever he was shown something beautiful and unlike what he had seen before. 

The green, rolling hills might have been boring for Genji who had grown up in such a beautiful landscape, but to Zenyatta they were unique. They were not the soaring peaks that surrounded the Shimbali monastery, or the geometric steel and glass monstrosities that populated Tokyo. They even managed to set themselves apart from the beauty around their Overwatch compound.

The lush grass reminded him of Genji’s fascination with green. Zenyatta was captivated for the entirety of the car ride. He was reminded that the beauty captured in film and literature originated somewhere. 

They arrived in Hanamura at night fall, sadly, and quickly retired to a small inn. Genji fell asleep almost immediately, but Zenyatta found his mind was rushing too quickly to happily power himself off for a few hours.

Excitement and stressed brewed in him restlessly. Each time he calmed one nagging question about Genji’s childhood and parents, another cropped up quickly. Zenyatta never ended up retiring into bed with Genji. He stayed up for the rest of the night, riding the waves of his fear and excitement. 

“Good morning.” Zenyatta turned away from the sunrise to see Genji sitting up in bed. His chest was bare, skin starting to get some color in it, now that he hadn’t been forcing himself to wear his full armor every day. “You stayed up?” 

Zenyatta rose from his curled spot, turning and stretching his sore servos. “Lots to think about.” Genji nodded before wrapping his arms around Zenyatta’s waist. Calm washed over him, relaxing into Genji’s chest as he held onto his shoulders. 

“Would you like to walk or drive to the Shimada estate?” Zenyatta took a moment to lean on him even further, array flickering and hums buzzing from his voice box. 

“Lets walk. I could benefit from some fresh air.” Genji nodded and rubbed his hands up and down Zenyatta’s spine. 

They were reluctant to pull apart, finger tips tracing across plating and skin as they took solace in each other. Eventually Zenyatta disentangled himself from Genji’s hold. 

Genji carried a somber shroud around him, moving slowly as he pulled on some clothing and grabbed for his wallet. It was unlike him and it made Zenyatta lethargic in his own movements. 

When they got out into the sunshine it was a bit better, Genji perking up when he got to pull Zenyatta to and fro. They ducked into manga shops and convenience stores, dodging through the shelves together as Genji regaled him with stories of his past. Some were cute and sweet, involving Hanzo or one of his parents taking him off the estate for an afternoon. When they reached a darker part of town, the stories turned a bit more insidious. Genji and Zenyatta peered through darkened glass into closed clubs, while Genji described his first time with another man in the bathroom. 

Or when they reached the edge of time, and Genji coaxed Zenyatta into following the line of his finger to find the sprawling estate hidden in the hills, while he murmured about getting beaten on the way into town once. Some were none too kind to the dragons of the Shimada household. It was only then that Zenyatta realized how none of the shop owners had talked to him, that Genji was quiet in the room, worried about realizing his identity. 

The sun was high in the sky by the time they started climbing through the hills up to Genji’s old home. The excitement that had kept Zenyatta up the night before, was now buzzing in his servos, his voice higher and faster as he admired the landscape or listened with rapture to Genji’s stories. There was still something sad in the slow movements of his lover, something tired in the plodding of his feet through the dirt. 

He still laughed, and told as many stories as he remembered. He humored Zenyatta when he had to stop for a second, able to look out across Hanamura, or the small alcove Genji had called home for so many years. Zenyatta brushed the somber air off, maybe he shouldn’t have, but he was fascinated with this nook of Japan. 

When they turned off the main path and into a grove of trees, Zenyatta was amazed that Genji had never returned after it was confirmed that the clan was out of commission. Dread iced up Zenyatta’s chassis so quick he heard his voice box bug with a strange noise. Genji pretended not to hear it as they continued through the forest, Zenyatta’s steps a bit more clumsy than usual as Genji guided him along. The clan was out of commission, the heads… Genji’s mother and father… 

He wanted to smack himself for being so stupid. When he looked to Genji, his face plate still secured, Zenyatta wondered what he was thinking. He was used to reading Genji’s emotions through his expressive face just as much as he was able to read his body language, but Genji seemed far away and unreachable, even as their fingers were laced together. 

Zenyatta squeezed his hand a little bit, pulling Genji out of his head to glance to Zenyatta beside him. They didn’t need to exchange words, just a little cock of Genji’s head told Zenyatta everything he needed to know. They walked on, green surrounding them with shafts of sunlight slanting across the path they plodded along on. 

Zenyatta could see the path opening up ahead of them, branching out into the Shimada estate. One part of him expected Genji to stop him and explain, so that he wouldn’t be so surprised. They did not stop, Genji led them forward. Zenyatta figured they didn’t need to exchange words anymore. 

They got to the mouth of the road, Zenyatta feeling his own hesitation well up in place of Genji’s. But Genji just tugged on him a little bit, cocking his head and giving Zenyatta the distinct impression he was smiling behind his mask. He nodded, mostly to himself before they walked on. 

Some part of him wished he had thought to bring a camera. He would have these memories stored away forever, to play back whenever he wished. But he wanted something concrete, he wanted pictures of the manga store of Genji’s childhood, to hold and to examine. He wanted to keep these images of the Shimada estate forever, for it took his breath away. 

“It was beautiful in it’s prime.” They were still walking toward the dilapidated buildings, Zenyatta’s mind blank and in awe as he stared at the sprawling buildings. 

“It is still beautiful.” He murmured, steps clumsy as he stared at where nature had started to reclaim the buildings of the Shimada clan. Most of it was rough stone, giant blocks stacked and cemented together to make him the short stout buildings. There were wide open courtyards with beautiful architecture and gardening, now infested with creeping vines, ransacked by teenagers who smashed the stone work. 

Zenyatta was surprised at how open it was, flanked by forest and a town in the hills below, Genji’s old estate managed to have an open air feel. He could imagine it from when Genji was a child, running through the long halls, now blank and barren, with giant windows whose glass was now ground into the gravel below it. 

Zenyatta’s mind was racing, wondering how it was furnished, what Genji’s room looked like, where he trained. Where they had their meetings. The darker part of his curiosity wondered if Hanzo had ambushed his young brother here, he wondered if there were still stains from-

“I can show you pictures.” Zenyatta turned to Genji, finding him facing out to a path of smooth stones. “I would love to show you all the glory of this place, but we aren’t here for that.” His voice was soft, a little sad, and Zenyatta stepped closer to him. Genji broke off as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, face buried into his throat as Genji heaved a breath and wrapped his arms around Zenyatta’s waist. 

“You do not have to take me down that path.” Genji’s arms tightened around him, face plate bumping against the side of his head. “We can turn around, get lunch in town and be back in Tokyo by dark.” Genji already knew he had that out, but it cooled Zenyatta’s guilt to say it himself. 

His fingers teased at the delicate pistons of Zenyatta’s back, a point of sensation that made him preen. “I know.” Zenyatta’s hand cupped the back of his head, thumb rubbing against the seam under his jaw. “And I still want to lead you down this path.” Zenyatta nodded and stepped flat footed again. 

Their fingers laced, and Genji looked at him once more before they started down the path of smooth stones. What surely used to be a well manicured, beautiful path, was now overgrown with vines, bushes, and trees farther out. Sunlight struggled to get through the thick growth, leaving them in a cool shade as they walked. 

The stones shifted under their feet, soft and beautiful in the grove as they anchored themselves together. Zenyatta was expecting something extravagant, but the path ended with a semi circle of large stones, well furred with moss. There were two headstones, the one on the right looking almost crammed into the small circle. Zenyatta stared blankly, unable to process the kanji to understand, before Genji spoke. “Zenyatta, meet my parents.” 

His gaze shot to Genji, who had managed to take off his mask without Zenyatta noticing. His eyes were sad when they fell to Zenyatta, lips quirking up into a weak smile before he sat on a wide rock and patted the space beside him. They sat silently for a moment, staring at their headstones. 

Genji gave a sad laugh and shook his head. “I know even know what I’m doing.” He tried to stand, but Zenyatta caught his wrist. “They aren’t even buried here.” He didn’t try to shake off his hold, but he didn’t look down at Zenyatta either. “My mother wanted to be, but… my father wanted her cremated.”

Zenyatta rubbed at the plating on Genji’s wrist, relaxing the defensive rise of his shoulders. “We will leave if you wish.” He looked back to the head stones. “But I would love if you could tell me about them.”

Genji looked on the verge of running away all together, but he nodded and sat beside Zenyatta. “From what I know of my mother, she did not want a second child.” He laughed, while Zenyatta smoothed a hand down his side. “She was already seeing how Hanzo was groomed by the clan at a young age, and she did not want that to happen to me.” Zenyatta nodded, gaze fixed on the side of Genji’s face. 

“She had me anyway. To please my father.” Zenyatta felt a deep sorrow take root in him. “She… she died in childbirth.” Genji’s voice was trembling, and Zenyatta could see the nervous energy making his body tremble. “Hanzo barely remembers her, and I never knew her at all.” 

He rubbed a hand across his face, breaking his death stare with the head stone. “I was raised by random nannies, and eventually Hanzo when he was old enough. I was never… I was never nurtured.” He licked his lips, trying to find the right words as Zenyatta ached for him. “I still manage to miss her, although I never knew her. I’ve only seen one picture of her.” 

He leaned back, hands laced in his lap. “What did she look like?” Genji startled, eyes shooting to Zenyatta as if he had forgotten the monk was there. 

Genji’s lips stretched into a smile, leaning into his lover’s side. “Trust me, I don’t get my good looks from Sojiro.” Zenyatta giggled a bit as Genji wolf whistled. “She was beautiful, in a down to earth way.” She was already beginning to take shape in Zenyatta’s mind. “My father was born into money, but my mother, she worked hard for most of her life. She knew how to get her hands dirty, how to get what she wanted.” His eyes were a little misty and Zenyatta held him against his chest, seeing a beautiful weathered woman, with skin spun out of sunlight and a smile that could make anyone laugh. 

“Legend goes,” Zenyatta chuckled. “That she saw my father in Hanamura, and told a friend of hers she would marry him.” Genji turned his face into Zenyatta’s chest. “She went up to him, asked him out to dinner, and the rest is history."

“Ahhhh, now I know where the Shimada charm really comes from.” Genji laughed and shook his head, sitting up as his eyes trailed to the hastily added head stone. 

“Sojiro pampered me, after my mother died.” Zenyatta’s hand laid on top of Genji’s still watching intently. “He tried to buy my love, let me do whatever I wanted as long as I showed up for training. While he was grooming Hanzo into the Shimada heir…” He broke off, voice a bit choked up while Zenyatta laced their fingers. “I was snorting coke in the bathroom of a dive bar in Hanamura.” 

Genji rubbed a hand through his small thatch of hair. “I believe he was a good man. The pressure of the clan would be enough to ruin any man. He wanted me to love him. His little sparrow.” He shook his head. 

“I fucking hated him.” He choked on a sob, and Zenyatta conjured up what he hoped was a comforting hum. “I was relieved the day he died. Until I watched Hanzo rise to the throne, I watched what they did to him, I watched and watched until… well, Hanzo tried to kill me, and you know that story.” Zenyatta nodded, rubbing his thumb up the curve of Genji’s hand. “All I ever did was watch. And my family was torn apart because of it.”

Zenyatta cupped the side of Genji’s face, turning him toward him. “Do not place that pressure on yourself.” Genji was leaning into him, until their foreheads pressed together. “Just as you said, the pressure of the clan could ruin any man. You are not exempt from that Genji Shimada.” 

Another ragged sob broke from his chest, his arms looping around Zenyatta’s waist to crush them together. He smacked sloppy kissed across Zenyatta’s face plate, holding them close together as he tried to catch his breath. Zenyatta cupped the back of his head, murmuring nonsense at him until he calmed down. 

“I just,” Genji sucked in a shuddering breath. “I just want them to be proud of me. Of the man I’ve become. Of this new body. Of the man I’ve fallen in love with.” Tears dripped down his face as he stared up at Zenyatta. 

He swiped his thumbs under Genji’s eyes, fondness choking him when Genji nuzzled and kissed at his palm. “They are Genji.” He was crushed into another hug. “For I have watched you grow into yourself, into your new body. I have watched you reconcile with your brother, I have watched you make friends and save the world countless times. There is nothing more that they could ask for.” 

They sat in the grove for a while longer, Zenyatta held Genji while he cried, tears of joy or sorrow he could not tell. Eventually they said goodbye to Genji’s parents, and goodbye to the broken down Shimada estate. Neither of them looked back as they walked down to Hanamura.

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on [tumblr!](https://sinningpumpkin.tumblr.com/) you can send me requests there!


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